A/N: I like this cross over. Hecate reminds me a lot of Granny Weatherwax and if you have ever read any of Terry Pratchett's work you'll know just how awesome Death is. For something that is supposed to be so serious he provides epic comedy relief. If you haven't read any of the books you can get a taste of Granny Weatherwax and Death in a cartoon called Discworld Wyrd Sisters. It's on YouTube if you search. I might do more of this cross, perhaps a little better though. Anyways thanks for the reads and if you want review, I love reviews….this one or any of my others.

Sometimes….sometimes you can't think about things. Sometimes you just have to act. There isn't always time to consider the consequences, not when it's your life or someone else's. There is no time to think about any one else. No time to fear the inevitable darkness, the emptiness and aloneness, that death is surely to bring.

There is no time to think about the people you will leave behind. Nor any time to spare a thought to how the small girl you pretended to hate for so long would feel as your lifeless body hit the ground in front of her.

Perhaps…perhaps if there had been time to wonder, time to think, if perhaps time had slowed as it did in all the stories, perhaps you would have wondered why everyone else seemed to be so still. Why everyone else was too slow to act. You knew, knew without a shadow of a doubt that had they thought about it, processed it clearly, they to would have moved in front of young Mildred Hubble. In front of any student really. Because that was their jobs. And because, dare she think it, every teacher at Cackle's loved every single student they taught. It wasn't just a job….not even for Hecate Hardbroom.

So when she saw the wizard begin to cast she had called out. She had been so sure Ada was the target, sure enough to push a shield, the strongest her magic could conjure, toward the Headmistress. She did not expect the man's gaze to shift toward one of her students. One of the last left in the courtyard after the summer sports competition.

By the time she noticed it was too late. She was fast, she was powerful, but she had no confidence she could cast a charm fast enough to save the girl from the vile magic she could feel shooting towards her.

So Hecate Hardbroom had done something she very rarely ever did. She acted without thought. She was the closest to Mildred. But even if she hadn't been…..she wouldn't have changed anything. She'd have thrown herself before the girl as many times as it took, as often as she was needed.

If she had a last thought….it was that she hoped someone got the bastard. She absolutely loathed it when people tried to hurt her students.

~HB~

She was looking down at her body. It was a bit surreal. She had no idea what to make of it. She sort of expected just to fade off into some kind of darkness and then never think again. She expected the vastness that was death to be….perhaps a little more final than it was turning out to be.

She watched, with perhaps a smirk, she was dead she was allowed to gloat now, as the man that had attacked them was promptly and painfully, put down by Ada. She watched as they checked on Mildred, who was huddled up next to her still body weeping.

She found she wanted to comfort the grief stricken girl. Wanted to wrap her arms around her and stop the crying she could hear. She wasn't worth that. Not the way she had treated Mildred the last two years. She certainly wasn't worth all those tears she saw. And she was very surprised Mildred wasn't the only one shedding them. Students had begun to filter back out onto the field, drawn by the commotion no doubt. Some we're staring in shock, others were crying and turning to their neighbors for comfort. It was a shocking sight to the witch who had perhaps been a little more strict than was always necessary.

"No point in regrets now," she told herself sadly, I'm dead after all." She had not been expecting a response.

"YOU'RE NOT DEAD, YOU KNOW." She jerked and held her body still, turning only her head to look toward the cloaked figure the voice had come from.

And what a voice it was. Deep and hollow. It echoed through the air and her chest with every word. It sounded…..final. If finality had a tone that was what it sounded like. No wonder either, if his boney appearance was anything to go by Hecate would swear she was staring Death in the face. He seemed more apologetic looking than she expected, considering he was nothing but bone and it didn't look as if his face moved with any kind of emotion.

She shook herself, it was well and good to look at him but he had spoken hadn't he? "Pardon me?"

She had no idea how she knew Death was about to speak, his mouth didn't open. In any case he was interrupted. "He said, you aintent dead yet." Came a wise voice. Hecate glanced around the black robed figure and saw another old woman, far older than herself.

The woman had grey hair pulled back in a bun, a little less strict than her own but Hecate had a feeling that was more to do with how much hair the woman had rather than her personal preference. She knew instinctively the woman was a witch, but unlike any she had ever met before. Her nose was crooked and her eyes were sharp. She reminded her a lot of Broomhead but…she just didn't give off the cruel vibe the other woman did.

"ESME WEATHERWAX, YOU ARE NOT DEAD EITHER. YOU CAN GO HOME WHENEVER YOU WANT." Death sounded exasperated.

"I told you I was supposed to have died." Esme said irritably. "I seen it."

Death rubbed his boney forehead with a large scythe Hecate hadn't noticed before then. He pulled out an hourglass and showed it to the other woman, waving it in front of her like a toddler would something he knew he wasn't supposed to play with and was hoping his parent was too preoccupied to scold him. "WELL THE SANDS ARE STILL FALLING. YOU ARE NOT DEAD."

Esme Weatherwax harrumphed at Death and went back to staring at the people in front of her. "Aintent natural. Witches are supposed to die when they seen it. I saw it, I should be dead. It's the way of things.

Death sighed drastically and turned away from the stubborn woman. "PERHAPS YOU WILL LISTEN TO REASON. YOU ARE NOT DEAD, YOU CAN GO BACK."

"If I'm not dead what are you doing here?" Death pointed to the wizard. Hecate hadn't noticed he'd been killed in the scuffle. "Oh poor Ada." She was going to be positively devastated she had killed him, even if it was self defense.

"IT WAS A HEART ATTACK." Death said plainly. She wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. "I HAVE NO REASON TO LIE." She blanched, not expecting him to be able to discern what she is thinking.

"I can go back then?" He nodded, sagely. "How?"

"TOUCH YOUR HEAD. IT'S RIDICULOUSLY SIMPLE." His voice echoed through the still air and Hecate decided to give it a go. If he was having a go at her…well it wasn't like she had any other offers on the table.

She walked forward and reached out her hand and rested it on her bodies forehead. Nothing happened. She looked back up to yell at him but she blinked and the next blink showed her the castle and the body of Mildred Hubble leaning over her.

"Your dripping all over me, Mildred Hubble." The little body laughed through her tears and launched herself at her teacher.

"Your alive!"

Hecate sat up and patted her back. She gave her tearful friends a small smile. "Yes. Rather anticlimactic if you ask me. But I'm great full none the less."

She glanced over and saw a faint outline of two figures in the distance. Already her memory of them was fading but she thought she could make out the older woman arguing still.

"I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS, ESME WEATHERWAX, AND I SAY YOU ARE NOT YET ENDED."

"And I'm telling you, you great big pile of bones, I seen it. What's it going to look like if I go back now. Nanny Og will laugh at me. And I ain't having that. Really... Who ever heard of witch that didn't die when she seen it?"

"I NEED A VACATION." Was the last thing she heard Death boom before she could no longer make them out of hear them.